Page 120 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘Changes always take time to get used to. But we are for the most part a happy family.’ He glanced through the open door to the dressing-room and saw the boy with the cans of hot water. ‘That’s your bath water, my lord. Will you require to be shaved?’

Giles felt his chin. ‘I don’t think so. I can manage now, if you want to go and see to Mr Richard.’

‘Mr Crooks is looking after him, my lord.’

Richard was down early, having left little for Crooks to do when he pottered along from Uncle Sebastian’s room. Richard was accustomed to dressing himself, and only let Crooks do his studs and links so as not to hurt the old boy’s feelings. He was almost first in the great hall, where they assembled over the Christmas season, with the enormous Christmas tree at the end, too big for the drawing-room. Only Alice was there, sitting on a settle by the fire and talking to the dogs, who were staring at her so adoringly it looked as though they might at any moment climb onto her lap.

‘Don’t let them dribble on you,’ he said, to announce himself, and saw from her start that she had been far away. ‘It would be a shame to spoil that dress. It suits you.’ He passed her to stand in front of the fire so that he could see her face. She gave a little quirk of the mouth that said, I don’t care if it suits me or not. What do I care for clothes? He sought for an opening. ‘You’ll be twenty-one next year,’ he said.

‘I don’t see that it will make any difference,’ she said.

‘It did to Rachel.’ She shrugged, stroking the dogs’ heads two-handed. ‘Is there nothing you want to do?’

‘Nothing that being a year older will make possible,’ she said.

There was too much sadness there. He thought of the look he had intercepted in the light of the bonfire. This was not just some schoolgirl crush on the handsome former blacksmith. It was more like his own passion for Molly, and he knew how hard it had been to get over that. And it was easier for men, who went out into the world and had things to do. Alice had nothing to distract her. But he could do something about that, at least.

‘I have some news for you,’ he said. ‘You remember I borrowed some of your drawings?’

‘You’ve lost them,’ she said, but not as if she cared.

‘I didn’t lose them, but thank you for the judgement on my character.’

‘I don’t want them back. I told you you could keep them.’

‘I showed them to somebody.’

A little frown creased between her brows. ‘Who?’

‘Henry Mawes Morris, the cartoonist. You know Lord Wigston introduced him to Aunt Caroline, so I see him there from time to time.’

‘I don’t understand. Why did he want them?’

‘He showed them to some publishers. One of them – Hardacre and Cass – is interested in you.’ He smiled at her bewildered look. ‘We have to make an appointment for you in the new year to show them a portfolio, and they might – might, I emphasise – use you to illustrate a book for them.’

‘Richard! Truly?’ she gasped.

‘Is it something you’d like to do?’

‘More than anything!’ she cried. ‘What book, did they say?’

‘Hans Andersen fairy tales, a new edition.’

‘Oh, Richard! I can’t believe it.’

‘Don’t get too excited too soon,’ he said. ‘It might come to nothing.’

‘I have to be excited! Someone professional likes my drawings! Even if nothing comes of it, it’s—’

‘Affirmation? But I’m always telling you you’re talented.’

‘It doesn’t count when it’s family.’ She hugged herself with pleasure. ‘And Mr Morris – he must have thought they were good or he wouldn’t have shown them?’

‘He did.’

Wentworth had thought she was good. But not good enough. But this – this was something real and solid, something to say she existed, her work existed, it mattered. She had a value that did not depend on being an earl’s daughter. ‘You can’t imagine what this means to me,’ she said.

‘I can try,’ Richard said. ‘I’ve never had the least talent at anything. But I must say it feels good that I’m making a go of the dairy scheme. Not just the Spare and a frivolous man-about-town, but capable of doing something of my own.’